


Without Which It Could Not Be

by galfridian



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Battlestar Galactica References, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/pseuds/galfridian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"But then, everyone has his limits. 'Sine qua non,' as they say." <span class="small">— BATTLESTAR GALACTICA</span></em><br/>Once, Abby knew she would draw her last breath on the Ark — just as she had drawn her first, just as Clarke would. On Earth, her fate seems to shift minute-to-minute, and she's only begun to fight for what's hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Which It Could Not Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [victorias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorias/gifts).



> An homage to the relationship between Laura Roslin and Bill Adama from _Battlestar Galactica_. It seems several of us — including Victorias — loved Roslin/Adama long before Rothenberg gave us Griffin/Kane. _Without Which It Could Not Be_ borrows a few of the Spaceparents' best moments for the Earthparents. However, you **do not** need to be familiar with _Battlestar Galactica_ to understand this fic.
> 
> [Victorias](http://archiveofourown.org/users/victorias/works), I hope you enjoy!

**2126 — APRIL**

_Too much — we used too much._ The realization hits Abby like a knife to her heart. She reseals the case and returns it to the refrigerator. She writes the number in the column labeled "quantity," and with some trepidation, moves on to the next item on her inventory.

Abby moves through her list with meticulous precision — she _does not_ think about the years of painful choices she now knows she has to make — until the sound of footsteps in the corridor draws her attention. She sets her list aside, turning to the doorway.

There's a bloodstain on the floor. Three weeks have passed since the maintenance accident, but the stain refuses to fade, however much they scrub at it. The compulsion to stare at the bloodstain wanes with each of her shifts, little by little. But tonight, despite her best efforts, she can't look away.

Booted feet step through the door, covering the stain. Looking up, Abby finds a guard leaning against the doorframe. He's young — maybe two years older than her — with brown eyes and a mess of dark hair. He's familiar, she thinks, although she can't place him. One of Jake's friends, maybe. "I was told to report here before my shift," the guard explains.

 _Of course_ , Abby realizes. The list was waiting for her when she arrived for her shift — two dozen guards scheduled to receive vaccination boosters. Seventy years in space and they've learned this: Illness likes to follow in the footsteps of disaster. 

Abby checks her watch. Nearly 2:00 a.m. If he's still pulling graveyard shifts like her, she must be right about his age. "Name?"

"Kane. Marcus."

She finds him on her list: _Kane, Marcus — age, nineteen — parents, Joseph and Vera._

"If you're busy, I can come by later," Marcus offers, indicating the checklist and assortment of needles on the table behind her. 

His eyes linger on the needles in a way Abby thinks her gaze must linger on that bloodstain. He's afraid of needles. She might have found it adorable — he's training for hostile situations, but he'd rather catch a fever than face a needle — but when he pulls his gaze away from the needles, it lands on the button pinned to her scrubs. He raises an eyebrow as if to say, _Really?_

"Don't worry. I have time for this," Abby assures him. "Sit there," she nods toward the gurney nearest her inventory. Reluctantly, Marcus does as told, and Abby takes her time choosing a needle.

"You support Shannon?" Marcus asks. He looks a little pale, but he calls her bluff, and stares her down as she prepares his shot. "You think a _school teacher_ knows how to lead a government?"

"Roll up your sleeve," she orders. "I'd love to know what you think makes a soldier more qualified for government than a teacher." She sprays the crook of his elbow with a disinfectant before grabbing the needle.

Marcus looks away. "I don't care that Gonzales comes from the guard. I care that he has leadership experience. Shannon has never even sat on the Council."

"Gonzales lost six men in the maintenance accident. At least four of those deaths could have been avoided."

" _That_ was not his fault," Marcus snaps. "If the chancellor had listened to any of the warnings —"

"You mean the signs a science _teacher_ first noticed?" Abby counters. The needle pierces Marcus's skin, eliciting a hiss of pain. She makes no effort to conceal her amusement.

She tosses the needle in the biohazard bin, along with her gloves, and checks his name off the list. Marcus leaves without a goodbye.

 

On election night, Abby pins a _vote for Shannon_ button to Jake's shirt. Rising onto her tiptoes, she whispers, "Trust me." Jake grins, stealing a quick kiss before she settles back on her heels.

"Looks like they're ready to announce," Marcus says. Together, they turn toward the chancellor. Jake rests his hand on the small of her back, and she leans into him, wrapping her right arm around his waist.

Marcus stands on her left. They don't touch, but as Shannon takes the stage to give her victory speech, Abby is intensely aware of him.

 

**2149 — DECEMBER**

Abby wakes. The night is still, pitch-black and silent. She doesn't know what pulled her from her sleep, maybe a shift in the air. She climbs out of bed, drawing a blanket around her shoulders. Stepping out of the Ark, she discovers a world swathed in white. 

Snow has fallen once or twice in the weeks since Mount Weather — but nothing like this. The snow floats to the ground in heavy drifts. She only slept an hour or so, but the ground is already covered, and she can't see more than a few feet in front of her.

Abby remembers learning about snow in Earth Skills: conditions for the best snow, how climate change affected snowfall. It's the poetry that stuck with her though: metaphors for beginnings, clean slates. She gets that now. It's beautiful, and yet — 

She's a mother, and she's afraid for her daughter. Surviving the cold is one thing, but snow is wet, slippery. It conceals dangers and diminishes plantlife. Abby pulls the blanket tight, ready to return to her bed, when she hears: "Abby?" She turns and finds Marcus. "We need you."

She follows him into engineering. It's late — the clock above Wick's workbench says it's midnight — but Wick, Raven, and two of Sinclair's engineering recruits are crowded around the radio. When Abby steps into the room, Raven shoves the recruits aside and pulls Abby through the crowd. "Marcus?" Abby glances over her shoulder. 

The would-be engineers have closed back in, trying to see past her. Behind them, Marcus and Sinclair lean against Raven's workbench. "On the last supply run, I asked Sinclair to disable the jamming frequency. We thought it was a long-shot, but —" Marcus nods toward Raven.

"An hour ago a message came through. It was on a loop." She hesitates, glancing at Marcus.

"Go on," Abby urges, ignoring their conspiratory looks.

"It was Clarke. She recorded it a week ago, we think." Raven flips a switch, and the radio buzzes to life. She grins. "Abby, she found survivors."

Abby's heart is in her throat. "Did you… did you talk to her?"

"We contacted their camp as soon as we got the message," Marcus says. "She left a couple days ago. Insisted on recording the message, so we would know it isn't a trap. They tried to get her to stay, but…"

"But she's alive," Raven interjects.

Abby takes a breath, trying to quell the ache in her chest. "Okay," she says. "Okay… what now?"

"We bring our people home," Marcus says.

 

A week later, on a bitterly cold evening, they celebrate. Between the Arkfall survivors and Mount Weather, Abby loses count of the reunions. However much she wishes her own daughter would return, she can't begrudge the others their joy. Returning to Earth has cost them so much; if they want to survive, they need victories like this.

The Arkfall survivors have also brought supplies — whatever they could salvage from their wreckage, along with the food they gathered. With the supplies from Mount Weather, surviving their first winter seems possible.

This evening, Abby wears a sweater found at Mount Weather. It's warm, so warm she hardly needs her jacket, and a beautiful shade of red. The sweater is the most vibrant piece of clothing she's ever owned. Everything on the Ark was faded from a century of washing, patching, and recycling.

It's snowing again, light little flurries that melt as they hit the ground. With the Arkfall survivors, Camp Jaha is almost too full, but Abby relishes it. The crowded Ark was all she knew most of her life. Right now, with too many people gathered in the courtyard, their losses seem less severe.

She finds Marcus with Bellamy and Taylor, the survivors' leader. Taylor is older, probably closer to Thelonius' age than theirs. Abby hadn't known him well on the Ark, but she gets the feeling she'll come to know him now.

The mood around their campfire is cheerful, but Bellamy is on edge, and his eyes search the crowd — for Lincoln, she guesses, or maybe Raven. And Marcus, well, she's known him twenty-three years now. She's seen that expression on his face more times than she can count, generally directed at her.

"Chancellor Griffin," Taylor greets her. "Come and sit! Bellamy was sharing some concerns about the Grounders."

Abby sits, positioning herself between Marcus and Taylor. From the corner of her eye, she sees Bellamy frown, and she recognizes the hard set of his jaw. "Not the Grounders. Their alliance." To Abby, he says, " _Lincoln_ has concerns. I'll talk to him about it."

"Good," Abby agrees.

The conversation after is tearse — false pleasantries and empty toasts to the future. Beside her, Marcus is too quiet, too tense. Abby wonders if Taylor can read him as well as she can.

 

Later, long after the sun has set, Abby and Marcus linger by their fire. Around them, the celebration goes on, laughter and conversation mingling in a pleasant rhythm.

"You're worried about Taylor," Abby observes, taking a generous sip from a flask she's kept hidden in her pocket all night. She passes the flask to Marcus.

"Too many questions about Mount Weather. Not about the kids or what happened there. The facility."

"He wants to use it."

"He doesn't understand," Marcus says. He takes a swig from the flask. "We can't put those kids back in that mountain."

"No," Abby agrees. "We can't."

Marcus offers her the flask. "Almost empty." She reaches for it — and okay, it's been a decade or two since Abby got _this_ drunk, but she's still pretty sure this Grounder brew has a little something special in it, because everything _feels_ surreal — and misses. Her hand lands somewhere on his upper arm, and she has to inch her way toward his hand. His skin is warm and wonderful, and why isn't he wearing a jacket? "I like your sweater," he whispers.

 

**2150 — MARCH**

Winter reminds Abby of the Ark: _Everything_ stripped bare, everyone just barely living. Like life on the Ark, surviving winter becomes a matter of anticipating the future. In spring, Camp Jaha will be warm. In spring, crops will be planted. In spring, wild plants will begin to grow. In spring, maybe Clarke will come home.

 _Soon_ , Abby tells herself, and that's why she agrees to follow Marcus into the woods. For an hour, he leads her through the barren trees, little branches snapping beneath their feet. In some places, windblown leaves cover patches of ice, but Marcus sidesteps them, and she follows.

Finally, they reach a clearing, and immediately, Abby sees why it's the favorite choice for a second camp. The glade is wide, offering plenty of room for shelter and for farming. At the bottom of a hill, not far from them, there's a stream that must lead to the river. On the opposite side of the clearing, a steep cliffside rises.

"Someone has lived here before," Abby says, pointing to the remains of a small shelter.

Marcus nods. "A group of Grounders, according to Lincoln. Lexa encouraged the groups living on the outskirts to return to Tondc, to strengthen their forces."

Exhausted from their hike, Abby sits beneath an oak tree. "Lincoln thinks Lexa will agree to a camp here?"

"He thinks so," Marcus says, coming to sit underneath the tree beside her. "It's a good spot — defensible, farmable. Camp Jaha is crowded as it is, and people will want to have children soon."

Looking out at the clearing, Abby has to admit it inspires hope. Come spring, when the trees are full of leaves and flowers begin to bloom, it will be beautiful. "It is a good spot," she agrees.

"This is it, Abby. This is the beginning of reclaiming everything we lost. One day, our people may live in houses again, maybe even build cities."

Abby leans back against the trunk, resting her eyes. Her head is pounding, and she's beginning to dread the walk back to camp. "Hmm, when I was little, I always liked the idea of a cabin in the woods."

"That sounds… peaceful. Maybe someday," Marcus says. She hears him shift. He's terrible at keeping still, Abby thinks, and wonders how it took her over twenty years to realize that. "You know, I don't recognize half these plants. I thought I knew them better than this."

Abby laughs. The sound is faraway, muted. She should open her eyes, she thinks. She needs to get back, has to take care of… "Jake says you're terrible at Earth Skills."

Marcus stills, and Abby's words come back to her. She sits up, forcing her eyes open. "Abby?" She lifts her gaze to his, finds he's a little fuzzy. He reaches for her, cupping her face with his hands. "Abby, you're burning up."

"Well," she says, "That seems right." Her vision blurs, and the world around her becomes blissfully dark.

 

She wakes, although it feels more like climbing out of quicksand, and finds Jackson is half-asleep on a chair next to her cot.

A common illness, he tells her. Something the Grounder children get once or twice before adulthood. Nothing fatal, but it's spreading around camp. "You need to rest," he insists, "We can treat the symptoms, but Lincoln says we just have to wait it out."

 

Two days pass, and however many times Abby tries to crawl out of bed, someone forces her to stay there. Once or twice, Raven has even sent Wick to pester her until she goes back to sleep.

On the third day, when Abby wakes from a restless sleep, Marcus is waiting. He helps her sit, propping her up with pillows from his own bed. "What's going on out there?" Abby asks. "Jackson just says, _'It's fine, Abby,'_ and Raven only talks about her latest project with Sinclair."

Marcus smiles, offering her a glass of water. Until the water hits her lips, Abby doesn't realize how thirsty she is. "Well, it _is_ fine. People are sick, but fortunately, there's little we can do right now to prepare for spring, so this won't hurt us in the future. Once it passes, most of us will be immune."

"What about Clarke? What if she gets sick?" Abby whispers.

"She's smart, and you taught her well. She'll find somewhere safe and dry, and she'll wait it out. Meanwhile." Marcus grabs a small box from the table next to him and sets it next to her. "I brought you something."

Abby opens the box — _books_. But most of their books were lost in the Arkfall. "Where did you… Mount Weather?" She pulls the books from the box, glancing at their titles, and running her fingers along their spines.

"I started bringing them with me a few weeks back. One or two at a time. Haven't found time to read any yet though."

Abby glances at the book in her hands. It has a plain cover: a faded red, yellow letters that read, _Searider Falcon_. "Start now," she says. "Read to me."

Marcus reaches for the book, and as he does, Abby pulls him onto her cot. He settles beside her, and as he opens the book, she thinks she feels the first whisper of a warm breeze drift through the open doors. 

As he begins to read, Abby closes her eyes. "I wasn’t afraid to die. I was afraid of the emptiness that I felt inside. I couldn’t feel anything. And that’s what scared me. You —" He pauses. 

She elbows him gently. "Keep going." 

"You came into my thoughts," he reads, "I felt them. It felt good."

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I've written this, there are a few more moments I think I'd like to borrow. So be on the lookout for a sequel.
> 
> A few notes:
> 
>   * I borrowed Taylor from _Terra Nova_ , another sci-fi series set in 2149. The series starred Paige Turco's husband as a character whose last name was Shannon.
>   * For those unfamiliar with _Battlestar Galactica_ , the book is one Adama reads to Roslin, and the quote is from that.
>   * After Marcus planted the fledgling tree, my favorite headcanon for him became that he's secretly great at botany; further, that he and Abby were competitive in plant identification in Earth Skills.
> 



End file.
